


Holy Water Cooler Gossip

by WorseOmens



Series: Good Omens Outsider POVs [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale’s former coworkers gossip about him, Gossip, M/M, angels don’t understand the ineffable husbands, heaven is an office, supernatural bureaucracy, watercooler gossip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:15:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22282456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorseOmens/pseuds/WorseOmens
Summary: Heaven is an office and, like in all offices, the water cooler is the best place to gossip about your coworkers.(Or: the angels talk shit about the ineffable husbands)
Relationships: Ineffable Husbands (mentioned), aziraphale/Crowley (mentioned)
Series: Good Omens Outsider POVs [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545919
Comments: 45
Kudos: 995





	Holy Water Cooler Gossip

**Author's Note:**

> This is short, silly & written just for the wordplay in the title ... enjoy :)

In Heaven, there is a water cooler. It's located in-between the entrance hall and the staircase, in a plain white corridor just like anywhere else. It never runs out, and never needs to be refreshed; it sustains the angels, who often stop by to drink from the very holiest source of holy water. Only Aziraphale had never really made a habit of drinking from this source; for once in his life, he wasn't picky about what he was drinking. He only stopped by once, in 1967. He was too preoccupied at the time to notice that the conversation stopped very abruptly when he approached. This is because angels, much like humans, love to gossip (though they prefer to call it "exchanging intelligence").

Michael leaned against the holy water cooler, a cup in his hand, waiting for someone else to arrive. He was a habitual intelligence-exchanger, and all of Heaven knew it. Most angels had begun taking measures to keep him out of their business some time around 3000 BC. Finally, Uriel appeared from around the corner, alongside Gabriel.

"Good morning, Michael," Gabriel said cheerily, filling a cup from the cooler. Uriel did the same.

"Gabriel, Uriel," he replied coolly. Underneath it, he was itching to tell them everything he'd stored up since last time. 

"What news?" Uriel asked.

Michael beamed. _"Well,"_ he began. "You recall the fate of the, ah... treacherous principality?"

"Exiled to live on earth, yes," Gabriel replied, sipping his water. 'Exiled' was a propagandised term for 'decided of his own volition'. 

"That's not all he's ended up with. My sources say the demon Crowley is constantly lurking around his earthly home," he said. Uriel wrinkled their nose in distaste. Michael leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Some say that he's even making efforts to seduce Aziraphale."

Gabriel winced. "Ew," he said, sharing a can-you-believe-that glance with Uriel. "Aziraphale is a traitor, but he is still an angel. He would never."

"You say that," Michael said lightly, sipping smugly from his paper cup, "but I've heard that Aziraphale already knows the demon - in the most _biblical_ sense."

"Revolting," Uriel said dryly. Gabriel made a show of retching, giving a theatrical shiver of disgust. "But I've heard similar things. The demon has been embarking on a very successful campaign to warp his mind. Aziraphale has been seen eating and drinking to excess, and he has even begun to _dance."_

"Dance? An angel, dancing!" Michael exclaimed, storing that nugget of information away to spread around the office later. "I've never heard anything so ridiculous."

"We've been saying for years that he just doesn't fit in around here," Gabriel said sagely, gesturing vaguely to the unnerving white surroundings. "Hoarding material objects, consuming gross matter, and now crawling into bed with demons... I'm not surprised."

"Did you know that he collects misprinted bibles?" Uriel chipped in. The other archangels turned in surprise. "It's true. He thinks they're amusing."

"Blasphemous," Michael whispered under his breath, pressing a hand to his chest. He took a swig of holy water to cleanse himself. "What can we expect, I suppose? He calls himself the godfather of the Antichrist, too. His behaviour is riddled with sacrilege."

"Demonic influence, no doubt," Uriel said with a shrug. "Crowley is famously wily. He's Hell's finest tempter - or he was, before he rebelled. I hear he's responsible for most of humanity's most heinous acts. The Spanish Inquisition was one of his, according to Hast - er, um, according to our intelligence."

"I almost pity Aziraphale. He doesn't stand a chance," Michael said condescendingly. "But I do wonder how he first fell in with the demon. Surely, he ought to have smote him long before he could be tempted."

"Crowley is a master of temptation. He's alluring, and wily," Gabriel said. He drank from his cup, only noticing the shocked stare he was getting after a few seconds. 

"Alluring?" Michael said, arching a brow.

"I'm quoting Aziraphale's reports," he said quickly, holding up his hands with an awkward laugh. Uriel and Michael relaxed, brushing off the odd comment.

"For a moment, we thought you'd been taken in by him as well," Uriel said wryly. 

"It can't last. Aziraphale will see, eventually, that the demon is just a passing fancy," he said. "That, or the demon will lose interest and cast him aside. It isn't in their nature to love, or to commit to a single entity."

They gave a general murmur of assent. There was a lull in conversation as they each took a drink of their holy water, when the sound of rapid footfalls echoed through heaven. Gabriel turned, frowning as he looked down the hall. A short, dumpy figure sprinted toward them. They looked at one another in amusement, waiting in silence as the other angel ran toward the water cooler.

Sandalphon skidded to a halt, breathing heavily, grabbed a cup and filled it. He downed a whole cup of holy water, panting heavily when he was done. He leant heavily on the water cooler. 

"Something to tell us, Sandalphon?" Michael asked calmly.

He nodded, desperately trying to recover his breath. "Disturbing news from earth," he said, with a greasy smile on his face that didn't match that pronouncement. "The Serpent of Eden has asked the Principality Aziraphale for his hand in marriage, and he _accepted_."

They gaped in shock. The paper cup slipped from Gabriel's slack hand, bouncing on the hard white floor, toppling onto its side. Holy water spilled over the ground. "He said yes?" Gabriel exclaimed loudly.

"Indeed," he replied.

"This is an outrage! Marriage is a scared bond," Michael raged, crushing his empty cup in one fist. "Does Aziraphale seriously expect fidelity? Love? Security?"

"He's been fooled. He'll bind himself to the demon, and Crowley will finally have won," Uriel replied fiercely. "This must be what he's been planning all these years. He wants an angel for himself, like - like an exotic pet! They do say he’s unashamedly extravagant like that."

"Humans have a word for what Aziraphale will be," Gabriel said disdainfully. "A trophy husband."

"Crowley must have been planning to abandon his own kind ever since he met Aziraphale. No doubt he expects an angel can offer him better things than the masters of Hell," Michael said.

"They'll be married before the new year," Sandalphon butted in again. "Aziraphale wants to conduct the ceremony in a _garden."_

There was a chorus of scoffing angels. "Not a church? I should've known!"

"Ridiculous!"

"The gall."

"The next thing we know, he'll be writing his own vows and wearing black at the ceremony!" Michael said snobbishly, turning his nose up.

"And I bet he hasn't even bothered to wait before going to bed with him," Gabriel added. 

"Fornication is the least of his sins," Sandalphon said with a sniff. 

“Don’t we know it,” Gabriel said, blowing out a lungful of air. “What a basket case.”

“Quite,” Uriel agreed.

“Yes, exactly,” Michael said. There was a long pause. “... did you hear what Jophiel did last week?”


End file.
